


Unspoken

by syusuke



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Ancient Egyptian Literature & Mythology, Gen, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of hell, Mythology - Freeform, Past Torture, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Castiel, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Suffering Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-15
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-04-09 11:54:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 16,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4347686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syusuke/pseuds/syusuke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Mark of Cain is manipulating Dean. He gets violent and is trying to regain control over his emotions and actions with all his might. Some of his coping mechanisms aren't exactly healthy. While hiding his problems from Sam, there is no way he can hide them from Cas. They know each other too well. Even when he doesn't really want to, he finds himself leaning on his angel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Breaking

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: If you have problems with self harm, please do NOT read this. It could be triggering. Please, take care of yourself and avoid anything that could trigger you!
> 
> I'm not glorifying self-harm. It's not something you can just stop. It's a serious issue and I try my very best to address it the way it is. It's not out of the blue either, I know what I'm talking about.

„Dean?“, Cas felt like an intruder in Dean’s room. He was faced with a long stare, followed by a shrug. Not a word. Now Castiel really started feeling uncomfortable. It had probably been a bad idea to confront the older Winchester. But since he was here now, he had to try: „Dean, if I can help you in any way… I don’t like seeing you this way. There is a lot of hatred in your eyes. And..“ Cas shut up immediately. He heard the loud crack when Dean’s fist connected with the concrete wall. Dean didn’t bother to look at Cas or withdraw his fist. He kept staring at the tiny trickle of blood leading from his broken fist along the white wall to the wooden floor. No whimper, no grunt, not even a curse. His whole body was tensed up. Cas could see the blood of several different people drying on Dean’s clothes. He was covered in crimson and his boots stained with dirt. He looked wrecked, but that wasn’t what Cas worried about. Dean was not just quiet, he refused to make the slightest noise. It was a behaviour he had shown on only one other occasion and if it happened again, it could mean just one thing. Cas was careful to move slowly and look as harmless as possible. Since Dean didn’t react to anything he said, Cas tried physical contact. 

The moment Cas hand graced Dean’s shoulder he was turned around and shoved hard against the wall. Sure, Cas had some angel juice left, but he was weakened and Dean was ever so close to being a knight of hell. His head was crushed against the bloody spot and he was struggling to breathe as Dean relentlessly cut off his air-supply. „Stop, this isn’t you!“, Cas tried pulling the arm away, „Dean, please.“ But Dean didn’t stop, he pushed harder. He acted solely on instinct and the more Cas struggled, the stronger he shoved. His eyes were dull and started growing darker, long past the livid green that were so essentially him. He was too far gone for reason. He didn’t see Cas as the angel he was so fond of, but only as a shadow of himself with demon eyes. He felt the strength leaving him, felt Cas stumbling. He let him glide to the floor, still pressing against his throat. As the shorter man hit the ground he stepped back. His gaze was still lacking any emotion. He didn’t end it. He knelt next to Cas, searching his face. No threat.

First thing Cas sensed was a metallic smell, like blood. He blinked his eyes open, searching for clues. A couple feet away he saw Dean sitting on his bed. It was strange though. He was shaking violently, clawing at his hair: „I’m an idiot. A fucking idiot! How could I… aweful.. I’m just aweful. I should just die.. yes, that’s right. I’m not worth the pain… it will be better for everyone.“ Cas could barely understand his rambling, but it broke his heart. He started to rise, but couldn’t suppress a heavy sigh. Dean’s head snapped around: „CAS! Oh shit, Cas… hey buddy. Stay with me. Hey, HEY!“ He slapped him hard. Cas opened his eyes again. Dean helped him leaning on the wall. The man who just brutally strangled him, was now the one holding him up and softly encouraging him. Cas couldn’t help but smile: „Calm now?“ He reached up to cup Dean’s face, brushing off the silent tears. Green eyes stared at him, failing to hold back the tears, failing to hold the intense stare. His mouth formed the words, ones that would never leave his lips. But Cas didn’t need to hear them. He knew. He knew, Dean was apologizing. He knew, Dean was blaming himself for all the bad things that ever happened. And he knew, that Dean was scared. He was scared of the mark and how it was affecting him. This fucked up situation just fuelled the self-hate, he had nurished his whole life. Cas knew how little Dean thought of himself and that he would give his life in a split second, if he could save just one person. He’d consider anyone worthy of that sacrifice. 

 

\--- A few hours earlier ----

It had been a rough day. The search for Cas‘ grace led them right into a trap. Dozens of angels still wanted Cas dead. They had attacked them and one thing led to another. When a tall female angel slashed across Sam’s back, Dean lost it. Sam couldn’t fight any longer, too exhausted from the fight and the blood loss. Cas hadn’t been doing so well himself, barely holding off two cupids. Only the sudden silence made Cas realize that the energy in the room had changed. Sam was unconscious, while Dean was slashing angel after angel, leaving a trail of corpses. He stubbornly made his way towards Cas. The cupids backed off to help the other angels against Dean. Even being heavily outnumbered Dean didn’t stop once. He was efficient, swinging two angel blades in his hands. Moving like a dancer rather than a fighter. It was beautiful and terrifying at once. Evading and attacking seemed like one unbroken flow of movements. Cas couldn’t stop staring. Dean killed them all, without stopping once,without thinking. The last angel hit the floor and Dean looked at Cas. For one terrifying moment he was ready to attack, suddenly he recognized his friend and realization hit him. The blades clattered to the ground, followed by Dean’s knees. He stared at Cas, assessing himself, letting the deep blue eyes anchor him. A few seconds ticked away till they shook it off and helped Sam back to the car. Dean had sent Cas to grab some food. When he returned Sam was patched up and asleep in his room. They ate in silence. The pressure was tangible, but Dean ignored it. Cas moved closer to his lover, no longer able to bear the distance. „Everything’s fine. We got out. I’ll heal Sam tomorrow, after a little rest.“, Cas hugged Dean who leaned back against him. He pressed a light kiss on his hair and tightened his grip. Dean nodded. Instead of the bedroom they’ve been sharing for a year now, he headed for the shower. Cas sighed heavily. This whole Mark of Cain situation was slowly taking its toll. But he wouldn’t let this one slide. He had to speak to Dean. Was he out of control? Was the demon taking over?

 

\--- now ---

Their relationship had always been special. Cas was troubled when he had to decipher Dean’s hints and sarcasm. Dean on the other hand couldn’t ask for help or express his emotions directly.So they had learned to evade it. There were very little words between them. It wasn’t a surprise that Dean pulled away. He looked sad and guilty, avoiding eye contact. Yet his hands were still on Cas, still gently holding him up. It hurt the angel to see him like that. Dean, brave lonely Dean, still thought he wasn’t worthy of love. „I don’t blame you. Dean, I love you and I always will.“, Cas smiled. He felt better with every second, the stolen grace healing him steadily. Carefully he pulled Dean’s right hand towards him. It was still bleeding. Even when he pushed against the ripped flesh, Dean didn’t flinch. That behaviour again. Cas swallowed heavily: „I will take off your shirt now. Please, let me.“ The hunter tensed up immediately. Warm fingers glided along his arms, stopping ever so slightly at each dampness. Dean couldn’t look up. He would only have to look in teary blue eyes and he couldn’t bear that. He couldn’t face the emotions right now. The whirlwind of emotions was the reason he did it in the first place. He couldn’t undo it, had felt at peace for once.

Yet he felt shame. Why did Cas have to notice? Why did he have to know? Dean cried, the sobs shaking him violently. Still holding Cas in place as gently as he could. The angel let him, knowing better than to comfort right now. Very carefully he rolled back Dean’s sleeves, uncovering fresh cuts. He had almost carved out the mark. Gently Cas prodded the wound, shocked how deep it went. It certainly graced the ligament. It must hurt like hell. Nevertheless Dean kept quiet, enduring the procedure. Cas leaned forward to kiss Dean’s forehead. He embraced his bleeding boyfriend tightly. Raising him up and guiding slowly to their bed. He made him sit down. Cas rolled the sleeves down again, unbuttoning the shirt and pulling it off. Then he moved behind Dean, placing featherlight kisses on his neck. He lets his grace linger for a moment, cleaning them both up. Dean panicks: „No, Cas! Don’t… don’t heal them.“ Dean pulled away sharply. A few quick steps later he was in the bathroom locking Cas out. He needed a moment, just a minute. The cuts on his arm were only slightly bleeding now. He knew, he should feel bad about it, should stop doing it. It was the only way out he had though, the only thing that worked. The turmoil in his mind just didn’t calm at all. Guilt, hatred, anger, fear, the feelings tormented him. He couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t be strong all the time. He just wanted his thoughts to shut up, some goddamn quiet. And he knew exactly how he could achieve that. It didn’t matter anyway. It’s not like he didn’t have lots of scars already, you get injured on the job. That’s part of it. It’s not pretty, but it lets you survive. His hunting knife still lay on the sink. The cold steel reflected the light, he took it, felt its weight. It didn’t matter, what happened earlier. It didn’t matter that he was still bleeding, his arm painted in an angry red. He took the knife and started to cut, where nobody would see it. Shallow cuts at first, followed by three deeper ones where the hellhounds had once gotten him. He should have stayed dead. He deserved to rot in hell, deserved all the torture Crowley could possibly imagine. The more he bled, the more his emotions died down. He could concentrate on the pain, on the blood dripping from the blade, the waistband of his trousers slowly getting soaked.


	2. What happened last night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean hadn't been very conscious of what he did. So when he realizes it the next morning, how will he react?

“Dean! Dean, open the door. If you don’t open the door right now, I will break it open. Dean, please!”, Cas pleaded desperately. There was no reaction from Dean, not even a low sound. Cas steadied his breath, trying to calm down a bit. He’d need to be careful with his powers, so he wouldn’t hurt Dean accidentally. “Dean, step away from the door. I’m coming in.” Angel of the lord or not, Cas was far from calm and composed. Dean, his Dean, was hurting himself again. After he thought they had finally gotten over this self-harm issue, after all this months of coaxing Dean out of his shell after Sam had jumped into the pit. They had worked it out once, they could do it again. Cas had to believe it. He had faith in Dean, always had, always will. But for now he needed to calm down and rip this door open.

Blood stains on his jeans, undershirt clutched to his side, breath shallow. The sight was horrible. Even more so because Dean was smiling. He was so obviously far away in his own little world. Cas was sure that Dean hadn’t even heard him ripping the door out. He didn’t react to anything Cas said. It was almost as if he was unconscious. Only the way he pressed his undershirt tightly against his side, indicated that he wasn’t that far gone. It took a lot of effort, not to panick. Cas couldn’t wait any longer for a response. The waiting drove him mad, made him feel helpless. He had to act. 

The angel loosened the tight grip on the knife. He smiled sadly at Dean, hushing him softly. “It’s gonna be okay. We’ll be fine. I’ve got you, Dean.” He took Dean’s right hand in his. He rubbed at it slowly, until it warmed up and the tension eased away. Cas talked Dean through everything he did and there was no sign of protest, except when he tried to heal the cuts. Then Dean flinched violently and tried to move away, although his movements were sluggish, he managed to stumble out of Cas’ reach. “No... don’t.” Dean was now cleaned up and stripped to his underwear. He trembled, shivers running through his body. He had to lean heavily against the wall. His legs couldn’t support his weight anymore. “Okay... Let me help you.” Cas led him to the bed, while he was supporting most of Dean’s weight. He didn’t want to upset Dean any further. So he made him sit down on the bed and then helped him into the softest sweater he could find. Every so often he would whisper sweet little nothings, assuring Dean of his love. Eventually he changed into a sleeping shirt himself. He cuddled Dean close to his chest, pulling the blankets over both of them. Dean turned his back, but didn’t try to break the embrace.Cas pulled him closer, offering as much comfort as he could. He placed light kisses on Dean’s neck and shoulder. He felt the shudders shaking Dean. He could only assume the man was crying. They stayed like this for almost an hour, then the shaking got fainter until it stopped completely. Dean exhausted himself and finally fell asleep. Cas watched him breathe. He couldn’t stop mouthing prayers, begging for guidance and strength.

 

\---

 

Dean woke up in the late morning. He felt exhausted. Snuggling closer to the warmth behind him, he pressed a little peck on his lover’s shoulder. His shifting made Cas pull him in closer. A content sigh left Dean’s lips, he wasn’t quite awake yet and he was more than willing to laze around in bed a little longer. Something was off though. He was wearing Sam’s old sweater. The soft green one. He only ever wore that, when he was sick. He slowly opened his eyes, blinking several times to clear his vision. Cas was looking or rather staring at him. There was no way he could miss the worry. Dean thought about it for a sec. The fight had been tough, he had patched up Sam earlier. Cas wasn’t injured or was he? There had been blood. Dean froze, as it dawned on him. “I hurt you... I’m so sorry. Cas, I’m...” Dean struggled out of bed, surprised by how wobbly he was. He inhaled sharply, when his right side grazed the closet. Oh dear god, he knew what this meant. He closed his eyes for a moment. His thoughts and memories were in disarray. It was hard to find the connections. “You wouldn’t let me heal them. I thought it better to wait until you calmed down.” Cas sounded apologetic, but Dean just shook his head. 

 

He was disappointed. He should be over this. They worked so damn hard to get to this point. It surely wasn’t easy to make a relationship work, when Cas had to be in heaven half the time. And Dean had thought that his self-control was better now. He thought, he could handle it alone. Now he got Cas mixed up in his craptastic emotional state. Well done, Winchester. Well done. There was no denying it. At least that’s what the shrink had told him three years ago.The first step to a solution was acknowledging the problem. “I’m as calm as I’ll get. And no... I don’t want you to heal them. It doesn’t matter, if I have a couple more scars.”, a deep sigh followed that, “I thought, I was done with this crap. It went so well for the last two years. The mark really does change me.” Dean was thankful that Cas took the hint and kept the distance for now. It took him a moment to check the cuts. The first-aid kit was close by, so he gathered the essentials. While he didn’t want to bother Cas with his injuries, the wish to be close to his angel was stronger. Dean had never been good at expressing his wishes. Cas was good enough at reading him though that it usually worked out. Dean put his utensils on the bedside table and snuggled up to Cas again. He didn’t need to tell him that he needed his warmth or that he couldn’t talk about the cuts. He didn’t need to tell him that he needed the pain, needed the cuts to scar so he would remember. Even if he couldn’t talk about the times he harmed himself, he still needed the memory like an anchor. Cas rolled onto his back, leading Dean’s head just atop of his heart. He made him listen to his heartbeat. It was one of the anchors they had established three years ago. Dean listened closely, the beat lulling him in, till his eyes fell shut.

Cas made sure that Dean slept tight, before he crept out of the bed. He tended to the cuts in a carefully efficient way. Since he wasn’t allowed to heal them, he desinfected and bandaged them tightly. He had been quick to get Dean into the sweater the night before, so he only just now saw how deep the cuts really were. There were three especially deep ones just below the ribs. Thankfully most were rather shallow and already healing up well. In his time as a human he had learned to appreciate the hyper-active scar tissue. The results weren’t pretty, but humans healed very quickly in contrast to most other mammals. It was also then that he realised that not every human scarred as easily as Dean. It was almost like the hunter’s body was overcompensating for the amount of injuries it had to endure. While Sam’s wounds took a couple weeks to close completely, Dean’s were covered within days in a thick layer of scar tissue. Dean’s whole body was pretty much covered in whitened scars, whenever he got tanned a bit more, it stood out like a complicated net. Cas was done with the torso and half way down the arm, when Dean woke up again. 

The hunter blinked a few times, still sleepy. Cas smiled a little. He cupped Dean’s cheek and traced slow circles with his thumb. The angel searched Dean’s eyes for some kind of confirmation, but the usually brilliant green stayed dull. It was a sure sign that Dean had retreated back into his thoughts, so far back that his body just moved on autopilot. So Cas finished patching him up and then lay down with him again. He knew Dean was in a bad place. He knew the man needed some time to assess the situation. But he also knew that Dean needed to feel loved and protected. Dean needed to feel wanted. “I’ve got you, Dean. I’m right here.” Cas didn’t expect an answer. He could actually use some rest himself. He had been watching Dean breathe the whole night, pulling the blanket back up and cuddling him closer repeatedly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love to hear what you think about it :)  
> I don't know if my English is annoying you or if it's just fine.   
> Like seriously, that's my biggest worry, right now. I try really hard, but I'm swiss.. so not exactly a native speaker huh ^^''


	3. I'm my own worst enemy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The little bubble around Cas and Dean is about to pop, as Sam wakes up and needs a little help.  
> In his sleep Dean is faced with his memories of hell and has a hard time snapping out of it. Luckily, Cas and Dean already have a few established anchors that work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little warning: The short flashback to hell could be considered quite graphic.   
> Oh yeah, ehm I don't like writing smut. So I'll just hint a little and what can I say.. I don't mind writing cuddling and kissing, just nothing explicit. If even that is too much for you, you can just skip the last paragraph. Although I do think that it shows their emotional connection more than anything else.

“Dean? Where are you? Little help? DEAN?!”

Castiel woke immediately. Sam was shouting from somewhere down the hall. Dean became uneasy and the angel was quick to get to Sam, before Dean could wake up entirely. Just about a minute later he found Sam lying in the hall, trying and failing to get up. “Heya Cas, mind giving me a hand?”, Sam sounded a bit off. With Castiel supporting Sam they got back to the hunters room. Sam had a hard time focusing, black spots ghosting around his vision. But he needed some food, he was starving. Once he was safely seated again, he held on to Cas for a moment. The room was now spinning wildly, his chest hurt like a bitch. Sam had to close his eyes, just for a little bit. Suddenly he felt the familiar tingling of angel mojo cursing through his body. The big slash on his chest was healing quickly, the torn flesh fitting together and the skin closing over it. It was an odd sensation. He couldn’t feel any pain, but he felt the pressure of skin against skin until it was one smooth patch again. Somewhere in the back of his mind Sam knew that it was quite a risk for Cas to use his powers and he couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty about it. He was relieved that the spinning stopped. He gave Cas a quick nod: “Thanks for that. Where’s Dean though? Did I miss an injury yesterday?” Cas avoided eye contact, feeling uncomfortable about how close the younger Winchester got to the true issue. Dean indeed had a wound that Sam hadn’t known about nor seen. Cas was aware of the fact that he was a bad liar. So he decided to go for half-truths, not actually lying: “Dean is exhausted and still asleep. But he wasn’t injured in yesterday’s fight, apart from some minor bruising. Do you require further assistance?” Sam raised an eyebrow, but accepted the answer. He wasn’t completely healed and still needed more rest, but found that he should be able to get to the kitchen on his own. He stood up carefully, lightly holding on to the angel. It hurt a little, but he’d manage. He’d been worse. He hesitated, really wanting to know what Cas held back. But he shrugged it off: “There’s something you’re not telling me. But I guess it can wait until we’re all rested up. Right?” Cas tilted his head to the left, seemingly a habit signaling irritation. He nodded: “You don’t need to know. I’ll take care of it.” It wasn’t a lie. Sam was satisfied for now. He told Cas to call him, when Dean woke up. Sam was worried for his older brother and the mark of Cain was a damn big problem.

 

Castiel reached out for Dean’s mind. He was thankful that the man was still asleep, but couldn’t unsee the dark shadows in his thoughts. It wasn’t as bad as when he found him in hell, nor was it close to when Sam jumped into the pit, but by now the angel knew that it would get worse before it got better. He left Sam to himself, trusting that he would leave them alone for the moment. Back in their room Dean was bothered by nightmares, he struggled to wake up. Dean was muttering almost inaudibly: “No... I won’t... eat me!.. never... leave him alone... take me... you take me..” Cas had to restrict the hunters hands, the risks of further aggravating the cuts was too big. He spoke to Dean, softly assuring him of his presence and coaxing him slowly to wake. 

But Dean was trapped in his dream or rather in his memories of hell and the torture by Alastair. He tried to fight the demon off, but settled for defiance when it didn’t work. Alastair chuckled darkly, he stabbed the hunter’s arm, cut cleanly through the muscle. Dean gasped, but didn’t have enough air to scream. Alastair twisted the knife, bringin his other hand up to lightly pull at the exposed muscle strings. “My, my... pretty well trained, I’ll give you that. I wonder how it tastes?” Alastair cut out a junk of his flesh and put it on a hook to let it roast. Dean was in agony, trying his outmost to keep his mind together. Alastair circled around his victim: “It doesn’t have to be like this, Dean. The pain can stop. You can have a break. All I need is a simple yes from you. Sounds good, doesn’t it? So, will you do as I say? Do as I do? Surrender, Dean Winchester. Surrender and your pain will stop.” Dean shook his head violently, he couldn’t. He couldn’t!

Cas tried to wake Dean. He slapped him lightly, calling out to him. He was getting desperate, so he found the cuts and squeezed hard. With a loud gasp Dean woke. He couldn’t quite solve the puzzle yet. He was in pain, but there was no hellfire nearby. Slowly he realized that he was clutching to someone. Someone warm who had a strong arm. He didn’t care much who it was, just leaning into the touch. Cas pulled him into a careful hug, fingers carding through the spikey hair.”I’ve got you, Dean. You are safe.”, the angel whispered it in his ear over and over again. It took the hunter several minutes to get his grip on reality back. It’s been a while since the dreams had been that bad. He made a conscious effort to calm his breathing, keeping it even. He let his arms relax, opened the fists he couldn’t remember making. The angel immediately released them, pulling back enough to search Deans face. The hunter didn’t face him, unwilling or unable to process what happened. Instead he placed a soft kiss on Cas’ collarbone. Resting his head there afterwards. Cas shivered lightly as the sweet spot was teased. The gentle hold shifted from comforting to eager. Cas scratched his finger nails lightly down Dean’s spine. “Cas..”, the taller man sounded firm, “Please, don’t stop. I need you.” It was the most honest Dean could be. He didn’t care, if they had lots of issues and cases to solve. At this moment, he needed the angel. He needed to love someone with all his heart, needed to trust someone else with his fragile emotions, needed to indulge. Castiel was ready to go along with Dean’s wishes. After all the older Winchester had been the one to show him love and it’s different varieties to begin with. It was another anchor they found two years ago. 

Dean was a very physical person, he craved physical confirmation. Castiel would alway give his love in whatever form Dean needed and to be honest, the angel did enjoy this specific form. Gender wasn’t really an issue for angels, it was defined for them by their vessels. What pulled Castiel towards this man wasn’t his appearance, but the bright way his soul was shining. A broken tormented soul filled with so much pain, but still willing to fight for the good, willing to sacrifice even more to save other lifes. Castiel took of the trench-coat and his suit, he’d made appear earlier to check on Sam. Dean was already down to the sweater and his boxers, he didn’t bother undressing further yet. To be honest, the sweater was comforting in his softness and as much as Dean wanted this, he wasn’t quite sure if he was ready for Cas to see all the cuts. He knew that Cas could have zapped away his clothes in the blink of an eye, but gave him some extra time to back out, if he changed his mind. Castiel’s vessel had been an active man and Dean could appreciate the lean muscle. It was the softness of the blue eyes, the careful touch and the commanding tone that made this man into the angel Castiel. Dean knew that Jim Novak was long gone and found his peace in heaven, there was no other consciousness next to Cas. He never knew Novak anyway, to him it had always been Cas. When the angel was down to undershirt and boxers, he turned back around. Dean stared at him, eyeing him up and down. Cas smiled: “Would you like me to help you out?” For a split second the hunter could see black wings, then he was pulled closer. He shivered. The excitement overtook him, he loved his angel and he especially loved being encircled by his wings.

Castiel rested his hands on his lovers hips. He still needed consent. As much as he loved Dean and as certain as he was that this was okay, he always asked for it: “Dean?” The hunter pulled him into a deep kiss, making it last as long as possible. “Yes... please.”, Dean almost begged. Cas kissed him again, slowly leading him backwards until they hit the bed. The hunter let himself fall, surprised when the angel sat down beside him. He wanted to get back up and closer to Cas, but understood the silent command to stay. Gentle fingers snuck under his sweater, caressing his sore muscles, certain to avoid his right side. Dean reached out for Cas. The stroking fingers were great, letting him calm down and enjoying the peaceful moment, but he needed more. More contact, skin on skin. He felt hot and uncomfortably sweaty, struggling to get the sweater of. Cas took the hint, carefully pulling it off. Another kiss. They were holding on to each other like they never wanted to let go again. A trail of little butterfly kisses found its way along Deans collarbone to the sensitive spot behind his ear. He moaned softly. Cas took his time caressing the smaller scars from once broken bones. He held the hunter down lightly, restricting his arms. Dean didn’t protest, only slightly winding under the others attention. Sweet little noises filled the room. To Cas this wasn’t just physical, he used it to worship his lover. He loved every part of Dean, every scar, every flaw and he wanted him to feel that. “You’re beautiful, Dean.” Castiel teased his lover affectionately, finding every sensitive spot. “You’re mine.” Dean whimpered helplessly. Yes, he needed Cas to claim him, needed to belong somewhere. He couldn’t bring himself to ask Cas to go faster or be rougher. But he needed more, more of everything. A stronger sensation. This was Cas though and Cas never needed to be told, somehow he knew instinctively. Cas would take care of him, Cas wouldn’t leave him alone.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean wakes up exhausted. He tries to calm down and faces Sam.

When Dean woke up, Cas wasn’t by his side. He scanned the room, but the angel wasn’t in sight. At this point he could use some alone time. He got up mechanically, heading for the bathroom and tightly shutting the door behind himself. He showered. The scars were an angry red, Cas had already closed the wounds. Dean remembered the angel staring him down, daring him to protest, as he did so. His mind was empty and full at the same time. He saw flashes of his time in hell, of Sam dying. Then it shifted to the times he put a blade to his own flesh. He saw blood flow down his arms and legs. So many thoughts and memories, but he couldn’t control it. He felt nothing, numb. He knew, he should be sad or angry, but he wasn’t. He just wasn’t feeling. As he left the shower he got a quick glance of his reflection. He looked sick, very pale. He smiled a little as he noticed the hickey on his throat. Cas marked him. He belonged to the angel... if the angel could love his broken self, maybe he could hang on a little longer. Maybe it was worth the fight. He closed his eyes, leaning forward he rested his head on the cold surface. The air cooled down quickly and the hunter began to shiver. The scars still twitched from time to time. The last drops of water fell from his hair as he grabbed his clothes.

 

Sam was reading in some old-looking book, occasionally sipping coffee. He acknowledged Dean’s arrival with a small nod, still deeply buried in his lecture. Dean was grateful for that. He wasn’t quite sure how he should react right now. He felt light-headed, subtly holding on to furniture whenever his vision was blurring. Might be the blood loss, but might also be his nerves. Dean hated to feel weak. He wanted to pretend that everything was fine. Surely, he could handle a small meal and a few words with his brother, before he’d hide out in his room again. The rustling and fiddling in the kitchen only took a couple minutes, then Dean called for Sam, placing two well filled plates on the table. He didn’t need to wait long, till Sam joined him.

They didn’t talk much. Sam briefly mentioned looking for leads on a new case nearby, but insisted that Dean should take it easy for now. At Dean’s irritated look, Sam explained: “Cas told me that you got some nasty cuts yesterday and that he was too exhausted to heal you. He’ll be back soon, I think. Said something bout checking up on Hanna. He’ll probably heal you then. Just lemme look into this. Maybe it’s just some ghost story, don’t worry about me. I’ll get you, if it starts to look like a serious fight. Don’t look at me like that! Cas healed me, I’m good to go.” Dean nodded slowly. He was still nauseous and really in no mood to argue with his brother. Sam left the bunker just about an hour later.

 

Dean was putting away the dishes, eyes almost closed. He was exhausted. The psychological war with himself, drained his energy. He jumped back, as a plate slipped from his wet fingers. The plate shattered on the ground. Dean was staring at the shards covering the floor. _Dammit Dean! You’re not a baby anymore! Pay attention!_ The plate disappeared and all he could see was the demon version of himself. He was laughing at him, telling him what a fucked up mess he was.

**This is where it ends. You’re a failure. Nobody wants you, nobody loves you. You let them all down. You’ll be their death. Everybody who cares for you dies. You’re not a good man. You’re a torturer, a frickin maniac. Alastair saw that, he just made you show your true colors. You love to hear them scream. The blood painting the walls and floors. You miss it, you’re longing for it. Don’t fight your true self, Dean! I’m you, always have been. So see what I see. Feel what I feel!**

“Shut up! I’m not the same as you!”

The demon just laughed. He pulled back his sleeve to reveal the mark. **You will be. Soon.**

“No, never!”

 

The shards started to look inviting. Dean just wanted his mind to stop. Stop this madness. He couldn’t take it. He hated himself enough as it was, but to hear it all over again. Everything he worked so hard to forget. He heard the souls screaming again, endless screams in hell and he was responsible for it. It was all his fault. He failed. Over and over again. Now innocent people had to pay the price for his stupidity. “Dean!” He looked up again. But it wasn’t the demon in front of him. It was Castiel. The angel who had fallen for him. Cas who left his home and his family behind to be with him. He looked worried. Just then the hunter became aware of the mess he made. The shattered plate was long forgotten. He saw numerous big cuts on his arm just above the mark, a shard in his left. It fell to the ground as he slumped back against the counter. He didn’t mean to, it wasn’t.. He wouldn’t. Never again. But Cas and his deep blue eyes measuring him with so much worry, he couldn’t. He wanted to say something, explain. But he couldn’t get a word out, only felt tears forming.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ehm... somehow the formatting isn't working?.. It's really annoying.. I'll try again later.
> 
> Oh, okay. Now it worked :) Sorry to everyone, who bothered to read it when it was just one compact text. Personally, I hate reading chapters like this, because the formatting helps me with my reading pace.


	5. A cure?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean had a breakdown and needs help from his angel. Cas might have a solution for the mark of cain.

* chapter five *

Dean didn’t realize what was going on all around him. He was led into his room, made to sit down. He was filled with so many emotions. Guilt mainly. He was ready to let go. It was all too much. Then suddenly someone was grabbing him and he reflexively pulled away. He backed off, scrambling to the other side of the bed. He pulled the blanket around him, trying to block out everything. It did help a little. He still felt overwhelmed by his emotions, but at least he realized where he was. This was his bed, his blanket. The familiar smell of clean sheets, his usual shampoo and most importantly Cas. The bed smelt like Castiel, it smelt safe. It took him another minute to hear the soft voice nearby. Suddenly he started smiling, he knew the voice. He lowered the blanket and was met by deep blue eyes. “Hi Cas... sorry, for scaring you.” Dean sighed softly. “I don’t know, man. Lots of memories and the whole tension. Maybe that’s not good.”

“Well, I’m glad, you’re back.” Cas actually sounded somewhat content. “I have good news. I might have found a way to take this from you.” The angel squeezed just above the mark. Dean looked at it, wondering if it really could be possible. Castiel must have guessed his thoughts. “It’s certainly not easy. In fact, it’s very complicated. But there is a way.” The hunter kept staring at the mark, the goddamn curse. Somehow it would work out? He had to hope. He saw the blue light of Castiel’s grace linger on his arm. He felt the cuts closing. The new ones, but also the ones he had told the angel not to heal. He should protest, should tell Cas to use his grace for something better. His body was covered in scars, he wouldn’t mind a few more. But this felt too nice. It wasn’t really about the scars. It was about Cas caring so much that he would use up his mojo for him. So, sue him, Dean needed that certainty right now. He thought about the last night. The angel had taken the lead and he loved it. Cas had set the pace, savouring every moment, dragging it out as long as he could. Dean blushed, as he remembered how he had begged for the angel to be rougher with him, how he had asked for too much, how he had wanted pain. But Castiel wouldn’t have it. He had been gentle and sweet, making sure to caress every part of his lover.

“Dean?”, Cas asked softly. The hunter hadn’t realised that he was holding the other’s hand. He was tracing the lines of his palm. Cas didn’t have especially large hands, yet they held so much power. The hands of an angel who could destroy a whole town. The angel who fought the most vicious demons of hell, just to get Dean out. Hands that could destroy, but chose to comfort. Dean had been held by those hands, raised from perdition and they offered comfort steadily. Cas smiled at the quiet man. He let Dean do as he pleased. The angel didn’t quite understand Dean’s fascination with his hands, but as long as it soothed him, he’d hold still. This peaceful moment lasted for just about five minutes, before the memories hit Dean and his easy smile turned into a deep frown. “Where’s Sammy?”

Castiel was disappointed that the moment couldn’t last. “Sam drove off a few hours ago. He’s investigating. He promised to call, if he needs assistance.” Dean nodded. He seemed to think hard about something. “I need to do something about this, Cas.”, he sighed heavily, “This can’t go on.” For a moment Cas thought, that Dean would speak on, but he just cut himself off. The angel knew anyway. He knew that if he had come back a litte later, it could have been too late. He had seen it in Dean’s eyes, that he had had no control left over his tortured mind. Or rather a scared and desperate part of his mind had taken over and just wanted it to end. He understood that this was something that worked to silence Dean’s mind, at least to some extent. They’ve been through this before. It hurt Cas to see him do it and even more so because he was still unsure as to how he could help. So he did, what he could. He was there. He tried to think practical. There was a cure for the mark, but it would cost them dearly. He really wished there was another way, but they didn’t have time to wait any longer, not with Dean this close to a total breakdown.

Dean got up from their bed. He put on his jacket and fished for the car keys. The clenched jaw was the only hint Cas needed to stay silent. “I need to do something. You wanna come?”, Dean’s voice was steady again. Only five minutes later they were driving to the little town of Epinton. Dean was focused on the road. Obviously trying to shut out most of his mind.


	6. Superstitio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An oath was given, but was it fulfilled?  
> Is Dean really in any shape to be hunting?

Sam was cursing under his breath. The investigation had gone south really fast. Oh sure, there was a ghost in Epinton. He just couldn’t find any good clues as to who the ghost was. The appearances seemed random and there were no recent deaths that he could connect. So that’s why he was in the church now. The priest hadn’t been helpful at all, but he let him read through the prayers, that the people wrote in this holy book of some kind. Whatever helped them. The book itself looked fairly old. He was actually surprised to find that the earliest prayers dated back to the civil war era. What made him curse though, was an entry from just about 60 years ago. It was written by a Henry Winchester and the hand writing looked awefully familiar. It was a strange prayer. It rhymed and just overall had this feel of a spell. Which wouldn’t be surprising, considering all the knowledge of the men of letters. It still felt off. Sam took a picture of it, but went back to scanning through the book afterwards. At least, he wanted to... the sudden cold changed his intentions. He still pretended to read, while discreetly clutching the gun under his jacket.

 

_“Why are you looking for me?”_

Sam turned around, surprised to see the ghost waiting calmly. It was a woman. She was dressed like a nun and rather petite. She didn’t seem like she wanted to attack him. Sam still had his hand on the gun, but didn’t want to provoke her. “Are you the one killing all these people?”, he asked carefully. She laughed, only to zap away and reappear at the altar. She pointed in the direction of some relics. _“Look for yourself, Winchester! I merely fulfill my oath.”_

The starting chords of Bon Jovi’s Dead or Alive eventually broke the silence. Sam picked up: “Yes, this is Sam. At the church. There’s definitely something here. Men of letters are somehow a part of this. Okay, see you.”

 

\--

 

When Dean arrived at the church, Sam was nowhere to be seen. Not even Cas could find a trace of him. The car was still in the parking lot though. “Dean, this place feels strange. I can sense the presence of a guardian. It seems angry.” But Dean ignored the angels warning and just marched straight to the book. It was like he gravitated towards it. But before he could touch it, the nun appeared. She took the book and zapped out of his reach.

 

_Enough! My oath is fulfilled. Release me! RELEASE ME THIS INSTANT!_

 

“Cas! What’s going on?”, Dean whispered as he reached for the other man. But Cas had disappeared. The hunter turned back to face the altar. The nun stood in front of it, holding the book close to her chest.

 

_You promised! We had an agreement. I gave you what you wanted, now end my ordeal._

 

The book started glowing, getting brighter and brighter. Dean had to shield his eyes. When the light faded, there was a young petite woman standing in front of him. She smiled sadly at him: “I’m sorry. I couldn’t handle it any longer. I’m finally allowed to leave. May the lord give you strength.” She handed him the book. On the first page was an enochian symbol, just the one. Endure. What the hell was going on? Dean didn’t understand it one bit. The woman had disappeared, but the church was... different. It felt different.

 

The priest was standing in front of the altar. He seemed troubled. Dean slowly walked towards him. “Father? Are you okay?”, Dean reached out, but his hand went right through the man. A jolt of pain rushed through his hand. He tried again, it felt like being tased. The priest murmured a prayer, seemingly feeling better now. His hand was still tingling. Behind the priest in the front row was Sam. He looked distressed and he was clearly observing everything the priest did. “Sam, SAM!”, Dean reached out for him too, but it just ended the same way. He got tased and Sam didn’t react. He saw Sam mouthing words, but couldn’t hear them.

 

“What the hell is going on? Cas? CAS?”, Dean felt panick crawling up his spine. No, this was a bad time. Not now. No. He tried breathing slowly. 1,2,3,4... in, 5,6,7,8,9,10... out. Again and again. He slowly felt himself calm a little bit. Good. Five things he could see. Sam, the priest, the heavy doors of the church, a candle, the book in his hand. His heart rate slowed down. It worked. Just a little more. Four things he could hear. His own heart beating, the wind whistling through the half open window, the prayer the priest still mumbled, a whisper behind him. He turned around, the whisper got louder. He couldn’t quite understand it yet.

 

_“Dolores commoveo, dolores commoveo. Siste! Siste! Imploro, domino, imploro!”_

 

“What? I don’t understand. Do you speak English? Lady?”, Dean was looking for the source of the voice. He only heard the whisper over and over again, but couldn’t see a fitting person. It was a female voice and the only people he could see were the priest and Sam. His brother didn’t look good. He had this expression of grim determination. But where was Cas? It didn’t make sense. They had come in together! He didn’t like this one bit. Dean felt this prickling on his nape again. He was losing control. He needed Cas. Sam. Anyone really. “Is anyone here? Please, lady? Where are you? Can you help me? Lady?”, as much as he tried he couldn’t keep the panic from his voice. He tried the breathing thing again, but he was already too far gone. Everything around him seemed to come closer. The walls were moving in on him. He couldn’t breathe. Too much. Too tight. His fingers dug deep into his side, searching for pain. It didn’t work. It didn’t.. why? Cas.. had he healed him? No,nononono.. something. He didn’t realize he was screaming.

 

_“Miser animus! Spira, caro!"_

 

Dean felt arms around him. He was being held. It felt good. Secure. Soft. A woman. She was talking. He couldn’t understand her. The soft tone and gentle hold lulled him in slowly, he let go. He was too worn out to fight this feeling of comfort. Although somewhere in the back of his mind an instinct told him that it was wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took latin, but it's been a while, it might not be completely accurate, but it should work.
> 
> “Dolores commoveo, dolores commoveo. Siste! Siste! Imploro, domino, imploro!”  
> I cause pain, I cause pain. Stop it! Stop it! I beg you, Sir/Lord/Master, I beg you!"  
> ..that's intentional, I'll tell you later whom she was talking to.
> 
> “Miser animus! Spira, caro!"  
> "Poor soul! Breathe, my dear!" --> I basically wanted her to call him sweetie, like a grandma would. I think "caro" is the closest thing I could use, without indicating any sort of romantic interest. 
> 
> If you think the translation is terrible, I'm open for alternatives ^^ As I said, it's been a while and I was never particularly good with the vocabulary. If it sounds very strange to you, it could also be because I translate it from german to latin and then to english for you. As always, comments are very much appreciated.


	7. lady in black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who is the lady in black? What is she doing to Dean?

Castiel stood in the church. He focused on his senses. Trying to reach for another sphere. A warm touch called his mind back to the now. Sam stood behind him and the priest was praying in front of the altar.

 

“Where’s Dean?”

 

A simple question really. Castiel didn’t know. He couldn’t find Dean’s presence. Which must mean that he was in a different sphere. He didn’t allow himself to linger on this thought for longer, it would only worry him and therefore compromise his ability to keep focused. “I don’t know, Sam. I can’t sense him. Something important changed in this area, when he disappeared. The energies shifted. I think, there is some kind of portal close by to switch to another dimension. Do you have an idea?”

 

“The book. There was some sort of spell in it. At least I think it is a spell. Our grandfather wrote it. I’ll start there. Can you find this sphere?”, Sam was hoping for the best. He knew damn well, that Cas was in a weakened state though and that it was probably difficult. “I’ll try. Call me, if there are any news. I need to find Dean quickly. He wasn’t in the best mindset, when we left the bunker.”

\--

Hours later they still hadn’t found any substantial clues. Sam had borrowed the book and took it back to the motel. The priest had kicked them out. He didn’t like the way they had examined the whole church. They might go back in during the night, but there was no need to openly argue with the priest. So they left for the moment. Cas stayed close to the church though. He had said something about needing to be close by to search for an entrance to this other sphere. Once again he stared at the spell from Henry. It was weird. It felt more like a poem, but the lettering looked somehow ancient and Sam couldn’t help, but feel like it was something powerful. Maybe it wasn’t so much about the words and more about how it was written. The ornament like letters could contain symbols.

 

**Guardian**

_Sometimes in life we need to share_

_Our feelings that are hard to bear_

_When in our hearts we feel such pain_

_that extra strength we have to gain_

_from someone who will keep us safe_

_and listen when we lose our faith_

_this guardian’s oath will keep him here_

_to light the way to the next sphere_

_You’re bound to serve as long you can_

_no one shall see you that is your ban_

_there is no end, there is no cure_

_just one word: endure_

 

A different sphere. Only thing that came to mind was the shadow realm, the place where the souls remain for a short time with a reaper. They would be granted a short time period to accept the fact that they’re dead and then the reaper would take them whichever way he had to. The ones who couldn’t accept their deaths would return to earth as vengeful spirits, ghosts. The reaper would try to do his job, but ultimately couldn’t force the souls to move on. So what was this guardian? What was his purpose?

Sam blinked rapidly. Words appeared next to the spell. They were written in what looked like blood and appeared in Latin, then second laters changed to English. Maybe the spell translated it? Weird.

_Dear friend, there is a man with me, who trespassed and I can’t seem to send him back. The oath doesn’t allow it. Please advise me._

A man? That must be Dean. But why did only Dean cross over?

_How can I help my brother? Who are you?_

The letters changed, once he wrote it down. They changed into Enochian?! What the hell was going on.. Sam had his cell in hand, as he saw new lines form in the book. Whoever it was, this being was ready to talk. “Cas? I need you here immediately. We can talk to whatever it is that has Dean.”

 

\-------

It took a long time for Dean to come back to full consciousness. He had dissociated. Exhaustion was keeping him down. First thing he felt was that he laid down onto something warm. He was warm and felt safe. It felt right? That usually only happened when he was with Cas. As he searched his surroundings he saw that he laid in the lap of a woman. She was dressed completely in black, her long black hair flowed down her back unrestrained. She held a book and wrote in it from time to time. She didn’t use a pen, but wrote directly with her finger. Her skin was pale, almost transparent. She seemed to notice his stare, turned to him. She looked kind, a genuine smile on her face.

 

“Spira, caro animo. Securum es.”

 

Dean had never been particularly good at latin. He was pretty certain, she said something about being secure. She touched his head lightly and closed her eyes in concentration.

 

“You are safe here, my dear. I mean no harm to you. I protect the suffering souls who come to my sphere.”

 

Dean looked at her disbelievingly, her lips hadn’t moved. It was as if she spoke directly in his mind. “Who or what are you?”

 

“Stay calm, hurt one. I have many names. Maybe you know me as Styx, daughter of Poseidon or as a Valkyrie. I could be Nyx to you, mother of dreams. Nephthys, guardian of wandering souls or Yohaulticetl the lady of night. Ramiel is what they called me, before I left heaven for eternity. Any of these names is fine with me, you can pick.”


	8. Ramiel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They find a way to communicate more or less effciently with Ramiel. Does Ramiel know how to help Dean? And what the hell is going on with that oath?!

Castiel had rushed back to the motel to find Sam writing frantically into the book.

 

“Cas, good. Does Ramiel sound familiar to you?”

 

“...yes, although I haven’t heard that name in aeons. She was an angel. Actually it’s very complicated, she used to be an aspect of the archangel Uriel. It has been a matter of great discussion in heaven whether Ramiel is her own being or should be reintegrated into Uriel’s grace. Since Uriel is dead now, the debate ended. No one in heaven knows where Ramiel is or what happened to her. I can not be certain that she even exists anymore. The little that I know indicates that she is a neutral being, guiding lost souls to heaven or hell. It was assumed that she lives in the shadow realm, but none of the angels can enter there, so there was never any confirmation. What does she have to do with this?”

 

“She’s talking to me through the book. She probably has Dean. It seems like she wants to help, but can’t.”, Sam showed him the pages covered in red letters and pencil, “Can you reach her somehow? Just to talk? It seems like the book drains a lot of her energy and we’ve been discussing for about an hour already.”

 

_I can not hold this connection any longer, Samuel. I need to replenish my energy._

_ How long will it take? _

_We have been conversing for almost a day now, I will need a whole day to recover._

_ A day?! It’s been an hour for me. _

_Time is relative to dimension. I will contact you again in a day or an hour in your sphere._

“Cas, how did Dean get into that dimension? He’s not dead or close to death, so he shouldn’t be able to get into the shadow realm. Right? So why only Dean and I’m fine?”, Sam desperately tried to make sense of it all. The younger Winchester practically shoved the book into the angels hand. He started pacing like a caged animal. Lots of built up energy needed a way out.  “I need... I’ll go for a short run! I’m sorry... I just need to clear my head. Can you try contacting her while I’m gone?”, Sam was clearly torn between his need to vent and the urge to keep searching for clues.

 

“I’ll try. I’ll call you if anything changes.”, Cas handed Sam his phone and signed for him to leave. The angel took the book. There was a lot to read, although he couldn’t help but think that Sam asked the wrong questions. If this really was Ramiel, she could help them.

-

 

“Uhm, sorry about earlier.. Ramiel? Thank you for staying with me. But where am I?”, Dean was sitting up now. The angel Ramiel sat beside him, still having one wing gently wrapped around him.

 

She smiled at him and then there was her voice in his head again: “This is the shadow realm. A sphere between the living world and the dead. Only the dead trespass here, they may stay a little while with me before they find their eternal rest in heaven or have to be purged in hellfire. The truly evil ones don’t come by here, those are picked up by a demon. I spoke with Samuel while you were resting. He is looking for you. Are you not dead, Dean Winchester?”

 

Dean shrugged: “I guess, I’m not dead. I mean, I’ve been dead before. I’ve been to hell and purgatory, even heaven. But right now I should be alive.” He rolled up his right sleeve to reveal the Mark of Cain. Just for a second he saw Ramiel’s eyes get wide. “I don’t know, if I even can die with this.”

 

Ramiel gently took his arm in her hands and examined the mark closely. She didn’t flinch away like any other angel who’d inspected it till now, nor did she try to trace it or touch it like Crowley had. She let go of his arm after a while. “May I look at your soul, fated one? I must warn you that it might be unpleasant. It is necessary for me to decide how to help you though.” Dean nodded and Ramiel raised her hand to his heart, it was glowing in grace.

 

At first it just felt pleasantly warm, somehow very familiar. Then it started feeling strange or rather he recognized the grace and he didn’t like it. It felt archaic, a lot older than Castiel’s grace. More intense, if not that much stronger than Cas.

 

Ramiel pulled back after only a few minutes. She looked sad somehow: “I need to show you something. It’s been hundreds of years. One selfish moment, one moment of weakness lead to this.”

 

-

 

As much as he tried Cas couldn’t reach the shadow realm, nor could he contact Ramiel. An hour was almost up, so he started writing into the book. He wrote in Enochian to spare Ramiel the strain of translation.

 

_ “I am Castiel an angel of the Lord. Are you really Ramiel? Fragment of Uriels grace, fallen angel?” _

_“Hello Castiel. Yes, I am Ramiel. I have not fallen. I gave up my place in heaven for the love of a mortal. When she died, I went to the shadow realm with her. I can not leave here, any more than you can enter. The Michael sword is with me, his mind is severly damaged. I’ve been trying to help, but my powers are limited.”_

_ “Can you help us to get Dean back? Is there a way for him to leave?” _

_“The portal has been closed, when Elenore changed places with Dean. She burdened him with her oath. She was the guardian of the portal. With practice, Dean could open it, but he can not leave, unless someone else takes his place.”_

_ “Only the dead can enter your realm. Why could Dean?” _

_“Part of him is dead. The rest of him is following quickly as he is turning into a Knight of Hell.”_

_ “Can we seperate those parts? Like you seperated yourself from Uriel?” _

_“Unlikely, possible with the help of a demon though. I don’t know exactly how the oath worked. The Men of Letters had studied many ways of magic, some of which I am not familiar with. We need a solution for the oath first. Samuel wrote about a bunker? Maybe you can find something there. Everything depends on whether or not you can get the oath fulfilled. Rest assured, that I will take care of Dean whether it is for a few weeks or for hundreds of years.”_

_ “Is there any way for me to enter the shadow realm?” _

_“Only if you die. Dean is strongly opposed to that option.”_

 

 

_\----_

 

Maybe you like some images to spark your imagination just as much as me, in that case I have a treat for you:

 

As for some images that inspired Ramiel:

as Nyx, the way I imagine her now

 __

 

As the Angel Ramiel, before she gave up her place in heaven (Ramiel is supposed to be one of 20 garrison leaders, so I expect her to be a fierce warrior)

Oh, but like in normal clothes... really all these fantasy drawings and the unpractical and revealing clothes...

 __

 

Oh and just because I can and I love the idea of the wings building a shelter for Dean:

_ _

 


	9. Nephthys companion of lost souls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the Shadow Realm we learn more about Ramiel's past and the portal.   
> Castiel goes to heaven to learn more about the fallen angel.

Sam had been looking through various spell books for the better half of a week already. Unfortunately, the oath wasn’t all that clearly formulated. It was some kind of mixture of different magic schools. Only thing he could say for sure was that a certain Eleonore Tudor, member of the British Men of Letters, had volunteered to take the oath in order to protect everyone from the shadows. Maybe she meant the shadow realm? But then what could be there that was so dangerous? Ramiel didn’t mention anything worth being anxious about. At times like these he really missed Bobby and Charlie.  
But what really weighed him down was the simple truth that Ramiel had stated. Dean was dying, at least the human part of him. 

\-- Shadow Realm --  
Dean stared at the well disbelievingly; "How does the portal work?"  
The angel stood very still. Her wings were outstretched, the brilliant white a stark contrast to her black clothing. She didn't look at Dean, head hung low in shame.  
"I am not entirely certain. A long time ago, when I had to flee from the heavenly gates to this dark sphere, I longed for the company of another. I was bitter and selfish. I prayed to our father. I begged with all my heart for mercy.", she took a deep breath, "Father granted me my wish, under the condition that my companion would have to choose this fate freely and be aware of the consequences. As Nyx I had visited the dreams of many humans and I watched over them. I sent nightmares to the ones who needed to learn and beautiful dreams of happiness to those that were suffering. From time to time I revealed myself in a dream and conversed with the humans. That is how I found Cassandra. She had endured cruel circumstances in her life and was longing for death. I offered her a place by my side for eternity. I told her that I couldn't give her the death she desired, but that I would make her life worth while. It took me years to convince her that she deserved this chance and that I honestly wanted her to stay with me. When the bond was formed, father created the portal to bring her flesh and blood to me."  
"Yeah, but... Where is she? If she can't die here.."  
"Pardon me, I got lost in my memories. She was happy at first, but eventually her wish to die grew stronger and stronger. I loved her with every fibre of my being, so I tried to grant her what she desired. No matter how much I wanted to send her to heaven, my power couldn't force the gates to open for her. I couldn't decide who got in, all father granted me was the ability to comfort the lost souls for however long they needed to stay with me. Eventually I prayed once again, this time begging for Cassandra's release. I do not know the details of his agreement with the Men of Letters, but Cassandra was allowed to leave for earth and in her place a woman named Eleonore appeared before me. The portal has been closed ever since. Until a few decades ago, when Eleonore somehow developped the ability to open it at will. I asked her about it, but she never explained how it worked."  
Dean was examining the well while Ramiel explained. It was just a dried out well. No special carvings or marks of any kind. Just a stone well. The atmosphere had changed from the quiet darkness that he had become used to, to a heavy mist. He looked at the angel, only now realizing that her eyes glowed red and her skin turned black. She was tense, but he wasn't sure whether it was from anger or sadness.  
"Soo... what you're saying is that I took Eleonore's place and if she learned to open the portal, maybe I could?", Dean hesitated. He couldn't ask her outright, but he felt her need for company. She must have been happy, when he appeared before her, needing her and seeking her comfort. He could understand that need for a purpose.  
Ramiel turned to look at him, slowly relaxing her posture. She softly caressed his cheek, smiling at him: "Sweet child, you need not worry about me. I will help you to get home. I do not wish to hold you against your will. So far my companions have known what they chose when they came here. You didn't have a choice in the matter. You have no obligation to stay with me."

\---

Castiel had gone back to heaven to find out more about Ramiel. But none of the angels were open to discuss it with him. Since Uriel's death the discussion around Ramiel had died down and nobody was keen on reviving it. They had enough problems as it was. So Castiel was left with only one option.  
"Metatron, I hear you behaved well since my last visit."  
"Ah, Cas! What is it this time? Do you need me to find your grace? Well, sorry to say it, but I'm not really interested in helping you."  
"No, that is not the reason. What do you know about Ramiel?"  
Metatron looked intrigued. He got up from the narrow bed and walked towards the bars.  
"Ramiel? Why are you interested in her?"  
"I think, I might have found out where she is. We established communication, but I need to know how much of what she says is true."  
"Ah, I see. You don't know whether you can trust her. Personally, I always liked Ramiel. Bright, innocent, a little naive. She was so much in love with humanity. Always tried her best to make them happy and help the ones in pain. Uriel was never that interested in the humans. He only saw them as his duty and he thought his love for God's creation was only a hindrance in fulfilling his duties. That's probably why he got rid of this aspect of himself. I still don't know how he managed to give her a normal consciousness and body. You know how he is, he never really told us the interesting stuff."  
Castiel listened. He didn't dare to interrupt Metatron. It was always difficult to get him to talk. Even though he didn't care much about Metatron's personal opinion on the events, he had to endure it, if he wanted him to keep talking.  
"Come on, Cassie. You must have heard about her, she was a part of many myths. Nephthys was a great one! She looked for lost souls and brought them to the heavenly gates. Some were allowed entry and other's had to be purged first. No matter how confused or scared they were, she stayed with them until they were ready to stop wandering. Fun fact, there were no ghosts on earth while she did that. She was great at her job. Even Dad praised her. But that was probably the start of her downfall. You know how our oldest brothers are. Jealousy had gripped a tight hold of Uriel. He was just an archangel for the sake of age at that point. No great achievements like Michael and Lucifer, definitely not known for his pranks like Gabriel. People mostly knew him as the boring serious one, also the weakest of the four. So hearing about how loved and respected Ramiel was... well it hit home. The rumors started that he wanted to reintegrate her into his grace. And the angels were split into two fractions. Some thought it was only natural for them to become one again, while others respected Ramiel too much to consider her just a fragment of Uriel. They warned her and she went into hiding. No one knew where she went. Not Uriel, not her friends, not even Gabriel who she respected the most. But then again he had left heaven already at that point in time. Quite a few thought that she had found Gabriel and was staying with him. Some hoped that she had hidden under the cloak of a pagan god and was still helping the humans.  
Me? I looked for fitting roles for her in the different pantheons. Once I thought I had found her in the greek goddess Iris. But Iris turned out to be a human who had gained a few powers from Morpheus. Unfortunately I couldn't find him. At least not without blowing my covers.  
Daddy dearest disappeared about a hundred years later and I didn't have time to search Ramiel anymore. Still, I'd like to know how she is doing. I know you don’t believe me, idiot. But I honestly liked her. She had such a gentle soul. Always interesting stories to tell, from all the people who seeked her comfort. So why do you think you found her?"  
"I'm not sure, if I should tell you. Thank you for the information. I'll try to confirm her identity. Then I'll decide, if I can believe you."  
"You're insulting me.", Metatron sighed melodramatically, "I have never lied to you. I don't have to. If it really is Ramiel, tell her that I'll always remember her as Nephthys and that I haven't forgotten a single one of her stories. Tell her, that I miss our talks."  
Castiel nodded: "I will tell her. One last thing, what would happen to Ramiel, if I could bring her to heaven?"  
Metatron went back to his bed, letting himself fall down on it. He threw his hands up, grasping at the air. "There are still a lot of angels who think she's just a fragment and since Uriel is dead... It's a 50:50 chance. Maybe they'll let her be her own being, maybe they'll absorb her grace to strengthen themselves. There has never been such a case before. Better don't risk it."


	10. The Endless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ramiel escorts a little girl to heaven, Dean tries to open the portal and Sam has found a hint.

Dean was tossing and turning. Ramiel had lead him to a bungalow before and offered it to him as a resting place. He hadn't realized how tired he was and gladly accepted it. She reassured him that she was just one call away. She had sternly looked at him, when he had tried to shrug it off and reminded him not to hesitate to call. Then she had left, vanished into the shadows. Possibly leaving the realm, possibly just teleporting to another part of it.

His breathing got harder, he clutched the blanket tightly. Sweat beads were building on his temples. He whimpered, pleading with someone, begging for it to stop.

Ramiel felt his distress. She was walking a little girl to heaven. They were holding hands, while the girl excitedly told her all about her cat that she was gonna meet again. Apparently it was called Blackie and had died two years ago. Ramiel smiled at the girl and nodded to encourage her to go on. Suddenly the kid stopped: "Is something wrong? You look sad." The girl let go of her hand and hugged the angel instead, holding on tightly until Ramiel hugged her back. "Do you feel better now?", the girl asked shyly, "I always feel better after a hug."

"Thank you, my dear.", she kissed the top of her head, "I feel much better. Now, would you like to fly the rest of the way?"

The girl giggled: "Can we? I'm a bit afraid of heights, but I just won't look down." She stretched out her arms and held onto the angel’s neck. Ramiel lifted her up into her arms and carefully spread her wings. 

 

Dean startled awake. He felt shaky, something was wrong. The place wasn't familiar. There was no one in the bed with him. It took him a few seconds to remember where he was. He concentrated on taking deep breaths and slowly got his racing heart under control. Everything was okay. Nobody in this realm was going to hurt him. There was no danger. Ramiel would help him. Sam and Cas were looking for ways to get him back. He just had to hang in there. And maybe he could learn to open the portal. Maybe not. But he had to try.

The bungalow was mostly empty. Ramiel had told him that he didn't need to eat or drink in this realm, since he wasn't exactly alive. Admittedly, he had sort of zoned out for some of the explanation, it had hurt his head. He still felt groggy. For him it was still only shortly after an intense episode and without Cas it would take him several more days to recover from it. Several days in which he was more likely to have another episode. Several days in which he had to endure the self-hatred and doubts that his mind had collected over the years. He really wasn't looking forward to that.

"Ramiel? I'd like to try figuring out the portal. Can you take me there?"

"I shall show you the way then.", a voice in his head said. A glowing light appeared in front of him, it hovered at about the height of his shoulder. It slowly moved away towards the door. Dean briefly considered commenting about the most cliché thing she could have done, but instead just thanked her and followed the light.

\---

"Where is the book?"

"Hello to you too, Cas."

"Sorry."

"It's over there, but she hasn't responded for hours. Guess, she's busy. Any news from heaven?", Sam looked hopeful.

Cas struggled to find the right words. He didn't want to burden Sam with his own doubts, but didn't want his hopes to rise too much.

"Ramiel is most likely friendly. As far as I can tell, she has never harmed a human and it is unlikely that she will now. As for the shadow realm itself, it's only a myth to the angels. They don't know how to get there and most of them didn't believe me in the first place. I wanted to ask Ramiel for more details about the realm."

Sam gestured towards the bed, where the book was laying: "Feel free to try. Last thing she said to me, was something about having to fulfill her duties and checking in with us later on."

"Have you found something about the oath?", Castiel asked. He was still standing next to Sam. But the younger Winchester was typing away on his laptop, not even looking up.

"Maybe. Have you ever heard of the Endless? I think the Men of Letters were trying to capture one of them. Most likely they tried Death.", Cas was going to interrupt him, when Sam continued, "No, not our Death. It's a little confusing. The Endless are more of a collection of concepts. I'd compare them to the greek gods. So Death would be Hades or the Styx or Thanatos, most likely all of them. Destruction would be Ares and so on."

"The Endless are part of a story by Neil Gaiman. They aren't real. It was his interpretation of... it's kinda hard to tell. He connected his stories with a lot of different mythological figures, but it's just a story.", Cas said tiredly, "But that should have been on the internet too. Why do you think that the Endless actually exist?"

Sam finally looked at Cas. He rotated his head a little, loosening up his neck. Then he got a relatively well preserved book from the stack next to him. "The Gaimans used to be Men of Letters. Neil himself was never introduced to the rites, but his grandfather was a member. You know how authors are, they build their stories on whatever myths or half-truths they like. Grandpa Gaiman was the head of the council for a while, so he would have known all the secrets. It wouldn't surprise me, if the Endless were real."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, uhm I tossed Neil Gaiman at you.  
> I am deeply in love with the Sandman series and the whole concept of the Endless.  
> If you're not familiar with it, here's a short list of have-to-knows:
> 
> \- The Endless represent different concepts that shape our lives  
> \- There are seven siblings, from oldest to youngest: Destiny, Death, Dream, Destruction, Desire, Despair and Delight/Delirium  
> \- Gaiman mixes a lot of different myths and their respective figures together to form one big existence in which they interact  
> \- God himself never appears in the stories, but Lucifer and angels are often mentioned and seem to be rather powerful  
> \- The equilibrium of power in this big mix-up is relative to the dimension in which they meet, like in the dream world it's basically impossible to beat Dream and Lucifer is most powerful in hell  
> \- The Endless interact more or less directly with the humans, some are content observing and others like Desire tend to mess shit up, just because they can or to get a rise out of one of the older siblings  
> \- Destiny and Death are what I'd consider "true neutral"  
> \- I'm basically saying the British Men of Letters are the occult cult that appeared in the first band of Sandman
> 
> I think this much should be enough knowledge for my story's purpose, but please go and read it. Those are the best graphic novels I've ever read! 
> 
> Follow this link for more information:  
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Sandman_(Vertigo)
> 
> If you should be inclined, here is a deeper look into its impact:  
> http://www.vertigocomics.com/blog/2015/11/09/the-importance-of-a-good-dream-neil-gaiman-on-the-sandmans-impact


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We learn a little more about Ramiel and her relations to other angels, while Cas is a nervous wreck, clinging to every piece of Dean in his reach.

It felt like months since Dean had started to inspect the well. There was some kind of resonance. He felt a weak connection to this place, but he couldn't grasp it. The flutter of wings got him back to reality. His mind had been drifting off. 

Ramiel landed gracefully. The deep lines on her face had disappeared and there was a softness to her features that he hadn't seen before. She seemed at peace. 

"You have been trying hard. I'm sorry that I wasn't helping. My duties required my absence. But I have news from your loved ones.", Ramiel's voice was soft like honey. It was comforting and Dean felt some of the tension leaving his body. She sat down on the well and Dean joined her, waiting patiently for the news.

She touched the leather-bound book tenderly, almost caressing the cover. When she opened it, Dean saw the signature scribble of Sam, followed by neat kind of old-schooly writing. 

"I have been talking to your brother and the angel Castiel through this book. It takes a lot of energy on my part, I was too exhausted to respond while taking care of my duties. Maybe you could help me, to be more efficient? It seems that there is a lot of new information."

Dean started reading the scribble. Sam had found out something about a family who used to be important to the Men of Letters, Gaiman and a set of beings called the Endless. The other writing was... Enochian. Cas had taught him the script in their free time and even though he didn't understand all of it, he got the main picture. Cas had been to heaven and wanted some kind of prove that Ramiel really was, who she claimed to be. He also asked for more information on the portal and when Ramiel had last contacted God. It was obvious to Dean that his angel wanted to believe Ramiel, but needed confirmation. He was aware that Ramiel was also reading the messages and waited for him to speak up.

"Uhm, so how can we convince them that you really are Ramiel? No offense, but I don't know all that much about your angel stuff."

"That will be difficult. I never met Castiel when I was still in heaven or on earth. There are no shared memories that I could retell. Only very few angels accompanied me on my duties. Gabriel was always interested in me, he gifted me with his time on several occasions. But even before I had to escape, Gabriel had disappeared. I felt Uriel's death, so he is not an option. I shared a few of my experiences with Metatron, but I don't know what happened to him."

"Metatron might work! We know where he is. You just tell them a story and when Metatron confirms it, we're good. And about Gabriel...," Dean scratched warily at his neck, "I guess, I should tell you. He died protecting us. Lucifer was on a rampage and Gabriel stepped up to face him. Lucifer and Michael are trapped in the cage for now, so no worries there." 

Ramiel's expression fell. She closed the book, clutching it closely to her chest. Her hair covered most of her face and Dean could only guess that she was crying. It surprised him. He had never seen an angel cry, except for Cas. The other angels were, well not exactly cold, just very controlled. They didn't show their emotions. Even for Cas it had taken years and losing most of his grace, until he had shown his tears. He hesitated to touch her. But she had comforted him and he wanted to help too.

Ramiel didn't flinch, when he carefully touched her arm. She opened up her wings in invitation. Dean scooted closer to her, throwing an arm around her shoulder in a side hug. She leaned into him, engulfing both of them with her wings, pulling him even closer. She was trembling lightly, still clutching the book. Dean kept stroking her hair, whispering softly about Gabriel being one of a kind and a hero. 

A few minutes later, Ramiel had ruled in her emotions. She stopped trembling. She was still leaning into Dean, treasuring his warmth.

"Gabriel was the first to accept me as my own being and not just as a fragment. He gave me this book before he left heaven."

 

\----

The bunker felt empty without Dean. No one was rustling about in the kitchen or drinking beer in the study. The garage was only rarely occupied, when Castiel sat in Baby listening to Dean's cassette tapes. It was two weeks now, since Dean had been sucked into the shadow realm. Even though they had regular contact with Ramiel, Castiel felt uneasy. He trusted Ramiel, was absolutely convinced that she was who she claimed to be. It was still as hard as ever to be seperated from Dean though, especially since he knew that his lover wasn't in the best state of mind. He had talked to Ramiel in private in a long forgotten language and shared his concerns with her. He had asked her to watch over Dean and ease his nightmares. In turn she had told him about the progress Dean made with the portal. She talked about what a big help Dean was that his kind-hearted lover had taken to accompany her during her duties. Ramiel had apologized for enjoying Dean's company so much. She had assured him that she was doing her best to help and didn't wish to keep Dean in the shadow realm. But she was worried too. She was able to suppress the pull of the Mark while Dean was in her sphere, however she could feel how it got stronger. 

Castiel sat on their shared bed. Dean's smell was almost gone, leaving Cas feeling even emptier. He shuffled through the few photographs he had of Dean. A young Dean sitting in the Impala wide grin in place, two kids wrestling in a forrest, four year old Dean kissing his mother's cheek. The angel felt hot tears falling from his eyes. How could he ask for Dean's return, if it meant he'd struggle even more with the Mark of Cain? Maybe Dean could be happy in the shadow realm beside Ramiel? Maybe... maybe it would be better if he could go to the shadow realm instead of getting Dean back to earth.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Metatron is actually helpful and the summon is ready.  
> Are the Endless real?

Metatron had surprised them all with his honest wish to help Ramiel. The scribe had been a great help, deciphering some of the codes from the Men of Letters. It had taken a long time to get the angels' consent to move Metatron to the bunker. But whatever Castiel had told them, it had made an impression. Of course, Metatron had been just as annoying and mouthy as all the other times they had to deal with him. Sam couldn't deny that he was very helpful though. His knowledge of languages and different magic schools had gotten them to this point, now it was just a matter of the final decision.  
Should they try to get Dean out through the portal and have someone else take on the oath? Or should they fulfill the oath, dragging both Dean and Ramiel out of the shadow realm?  
Both plans had their risks. More importantly, none of them had the heart to force Ramiel to leave her sphere. They had asked her about it and stressed the fact that it might be her only chance to leave. Dean didn't want to leave, before she had time to make her own decision. In case, that they needed someone to switch places with Dean, Metatron had volunteered.

Dean had managed to open the portal just far enough to send his mind to Castiel for a few minutes. He could only do it once a day and it left both of them exhausted, but they had used those treasured minutes wisely. They had both needed the reassurance that they were okay. The Mark of Cain had made the decision harder. It would have been easier for Dean to remain in the shadow realm, where Ramiel could suppress its effects. The main argument was an easy one though: There was no way for Castiel to enter the shadow realm, without taking Dean's place. They couldn't be there at the same time.

After two days of carefully thinking about her options Ramiel decided to leave the shadow realm with Dean. Metatron literally jumped around in excitement! He was looking forward to see his dear friend again.

All of them were nervous, when Sam started chanting the old spell. Everything was prepared, the sigils were drawn, the ingredients in place. Now they were all hoping that the Gaimans had been right and the Endless actually existed. Metatron thought he had met Desire once and was wary of the Endless, but also optimistic that all seven of them existed.

"Be to him, Death,  
All things I might not be;  
Take his head upon your knee,  
He that was so proud and wild,  
Flippant, arrogant and free,  
He that had no need of me,  
Is a poor lonely soul  
Lost in the shadows, - Death,  
Take his head upon your knee;  
Say to him, "My dear, my dear,  
Let us leave this sphere."

Sam waited anxiously, offering his open palms in sign of surrender. He had rewritten the spell to fit their purpose. It should work, but it was strange to summon the idea of Death instead of the Death they already knew.

"Are you sure this will work?", Metatron got impatient. He was skittish, scanning the room over and over again. 

"Nice poetry, I'm not a fan of all those rhymes. It's heartfelt, I like that.", a short petite woman non-chalantly leaned against Sam's shoulder, "What now? I'm here, since you asked so nicely."

The men were just staring at this rather harmless looking woman with the corpse-white skin and wild black hair. She smiled at them, opening up her arms, gesturing to the whole room.

"All these efforts and now the cat's got your tongues? You are an impressive group, give yourselves some credit. Two angels, the one true vessel of Lucifer and I guess the shadow realm would add the Michael sword and Nephthys to the line-up. Why did you summon me?"

Castiel spoke up: "We wish for your help to get Dean and Ramiel out of the shadow realm. We found out that you have the ability to transfer body and soul between the spheres without a risk. You are our only chance to get our friends back, who were forced to transcend to the shadow realm by unfortunate circumstances and can't leave on their own. We would be forever in your debt and would do everything within our abilities to help you."

Death listened quietly to the proposition. She mustered every one of them. She drummed her fingers against her hips, throwing her head back: "That's great and all, but what if I wanted something right now? What if I asked for one life in exchange for two? That would be fair, wouldn't it?"

All their mouths opened simultaneously, but Death interrupted: "Ah, I get to pick. How considerate. All right, I'll do it. I'm gonna get them now."

Death disappeared in the blink of an eye. There was no proof that she had ever been here, no smoke, no black stain, no smell. 

"Uh, that was easy?", Sam scratched his head. He cleared his throat, looking at Castiel and Metatron. "You are really okay with it? I mean, her picking whoever she wants? It was my idea to summon her... I mean, I was ready for that."

 

\----

 

"Nephthys! It's been too long! Come here!", Death pulled Ramiel into a tight hug, "I missed you. But Destiny said, I can't help you, unless someone begged for you." 

"Isis? You look different.", Ramiel hugged her back, engulfing both of them in her wings, "How did you come here? Are you dead?"

"No, I am Death.", the petite woman smiled at her, "It's a long story. I'll get you out of here first. Just give me your hands. You too, Dean."

Dean still struggled to believe the whole thing with the Endless, but she seemed to know Ramiel and that was good enough for him given the circumstances. He tried for a smile, but only succeeded in a pityful grimace. As happy as he was to get back to Cas, he was dreading the moment that the Mark got its power back. The women noticed his hesitation and Ramiel offered her hand too: "It will be fine, sweet child. I will help you to deal with it."

As their hands closed, Death zapped them back to earth. They appeared in the bunker, in front of their friends. 

It only took a split second for Dean to feel the pull of the Mark return. He fell to his knees, his hands still intertwined with the women.

"Dean!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The summon is a poem that I changed for my purpose. I honestly don't know what it was called or who wrote it. I found it on pinterest once and saved it on my phone. Knowing me it was probably a prayer to a death god. It didn't make much sense to me in its original form. So yeah, sorry if it sounds not enough like a spell... I figured lots of their spells are sort of jumbled up, so it wouldn't matter.  
> More importantly, what are we gonna do about that Mark?!


	13. Death does what needs to be done

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean struggles with the strong pull of the curse and everyone tries to help.

"Sweet child, hold on. It will pass.", Ramiel cupped his head softly and started murmuring. Her grace was flowing over his body, shielding him from the outside influence.

"Dean! What are you doing?", Castiel was reaching for his lover, "He's hurting."

Death caught his hand, before he could touch Dean. She looked at him sternly: "Wait. She is helping. Her grace forms a barrier. That way the evil within the shadows can't reach him. Don't interfere. She will be done soon."

 

Sam was itching to run to his brother's side. He suppressed it though. Dean was still clutching Death's hand and Ramiel was obviously trying to help. It was a bizarre picture. Dean kneeling on the floor in pain, an angel with out-stretched wings sending grace over his body, Death holding his hand while staring down Castiel who had been frozen in place, longing to help but not knowing how. Sam flinched, when a clammy hand touched his bare forearm. He had totally forgotten about Metatron.

The scribe stared at him with a blank expression, hand slightly trembling: "She really did it. The Endless are real. I owe Desire an apology."

Death turned their gaze on them: "You met Desire? Then you are not mine to take. Give brother/sister my regards at your next encounter."

Ramiel's chanting stopped, her grace was concentrated on Dean's arm, flowing over the Mark. She let her hands linger for a moment: "Miser animo, your beloved is waiting."

Dean felt the pull lessen far enough to get a clear mind again. He blinked a few times, before his vision went back to normal. Ramiel stood before him, she smiled at him, her hands gently holding his head. His right hand was held by someone, but when he turned to look, the cold skin had been replaced by a warmer, bigger palm. All he could see were deep blue eyes. His anker, his home.

He willingly followed, as he was pulled into strong arms. Finally he felt that warmth again, he grabbed a handful of Castiel's shirt. His tears were hidden in the cloth: "Cas... I... I love you." He confessed to his lover, voice so hoarse and quiet the others couldn't possibly hear it. His angel pulled him in closer. The world was lost to them at that moment. They finally had each other again. Too scared, to let go.

 

“I’ve decided whose life I want. So, here is my price. I took two people from the shadow realm to this one. Two lives with great potential. I claim one for myself. Nephthys, would you like to help me? There are a lot more humans nowadays and I can barely keep up with all of them. Would you pledge your life to me? To guiding lost souls to the afterlife?”, Death looked at Ramiel, trying to read her features, “I would like some company. Or a reliable partner. Whatever works for you.”

Ramiel bowed deeply before Death: "I would like that. But I have promised to help the Michael Sword with the Mark of Cain. I feel that I can not leave him alone with that burden."

"But you would come with me, out of your own free will? If it wasn't for your promise."

"Yes."

 

"Scribe, come to me.", Death raised her voice a little, "What do you desire?"

"I..", Metatron straightened himself, "I want to be meaningful. I want to have an impact on the world. I want that they write stories about me."

"Sam Winchester, you are a Man of Letters. Write down what happened today and make sure it leaks to the internet somehow.", Death turned back to Metatron, "I'll make you immortal. The most important angel of them all. The angel who took the fall for humanity. You are already a favourite of Desire, I'll send you to her realm afterwards."

 

Death nudged Metatron forward until they stood in front of Dean and Castiel. She laid a hand on Dean's shoulder: "Dean Winchester, give me your right arm. I can help you."

Even when Dean turned around to oblige, Castiel didn't let go. He held onto Dean's middle, pressing his body flush against Dean's back. The angel was painfully aware of how long they had been seperated. He felt a little stupid about it, but when he raised his head there was nothing but understanding in Death's eyes. She made Dean and Metatron hold onto each others forearm. The Mark changed immediately, crawling towards Metatron. But Death forced their arms apart, remnants of the Mark on both their arms. It was distorted, unrecognizable, but still there.

"This will do. It's still there, I can't destroy it. But now you are sharing the burden and by sharing it, you destroyed the pull it has towards the evil of the world. You'll still feel the pull of your inner demons, but the evil outside of you can no longer track you down.", she let go of them.

 

She seemed quite content, a soft smile spreading over her face: "Will you come with me now, Nephthys?"

"Always."

 

They were still frozen in place, when Death and Ramiel walked off hand in hand, disappearing from one second to the next.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

\------

 

Goodbye Ramiel, it was my pleasure to construct you from several different concepts of a guide between the world of the living and the dead

 

 Thanatos, greek god of death    Eris/ Iris, greek goddess of chaos and  messenger of the gods

Nephthys, egyptian goddess of death, protector of the dead

Valkyrie, nordic mythological figure, collecting the souls of brave fallen soldier to escort them to Valhalla

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my... THIS was a challenge... too many characters in the same room ^^''  
> I know why I usually divide them up in several smaller groups.
> 
> Is it fine? Can you actually get the whole scene? I just gave in at some point.. couldn't quite get it to the point I wanted... but I really wanna get to the end of the story... 
> 
> It feels like I'm rushing it, but guys, I've been writing on this on and off for almost two years now.  
> I've always known where it was going to end and I'm just excited that I figured out the middle part.


	14. Physical contact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The curse is... what the hell did she do?
> 
> Team Free Will is just glad they get to be in the same room again.

It was like a spell was broken, when Metatron started laughing.

"She tricked me. She gave me immortality, but not in the way I wanted.", he clutched his hair, "I should have known not to trust her. It sounded too good. At least, I got a bit of Ramiel's grace with the curse. It feels comforting." He closed his eyes in defeat. His whole posture sagged. With an exaggerated sigh he proclaimed: "Castiel, bring me back to my cell. There is nothing for me on Earth. Maybe I'll find a way to break the curse, if nothing else I'm motivated now."

Cas was still holding Dean, entirely unwilling to let go of his lover. Only Sam's insistent tugging got him to ease off the older Winchester.

"Come here, Jerk.", Sam said right before burying his nose in his brother's hair. He held on just as tightly as Castiel had.

"Bitch."

 

\-----

The trip to heaven was as short as possible. Cas dropped Metatron off, without any further explanation. Surely, the scribe would tell them however much he saw fit. Cas might not like Metatron, but he had started to respect him. There was a certain potential for future cooperation.

 

The angel returned to the brothers sitting on the couch. Some old western movie was playing on the laptop and there was some beef jerky and beer on the tv table. Dean was still tense, but clearly more relaxed than the few weeks before this whole crap. He smiled at Sam and made it a point to annoy him as much as possible. They were bickering back and forth, the "accidental" elbow blows underlining their arguments. Dean was mouthing along the whole dialouge. Castiel decided to leave them to their movie. It had been a hard month for all of them. Nobody could blame him for taking in the peaceful image and carefully comitting it to memory.

 

About half way through the movie Sam had fallen asleep, his head resting on Dean's shoulder. One hand was loosely holding onto his brother's shirt. Dean had been drifting in out of sleep for a while himself, he only barely noticed Cas turning off the laptop.

"Hey..", Dean slurred. He tried not to jostle Sam, simultaneously he made a grabby hand waiting for his angel. There wasn't really enough space for a third grown man on the sofa. Instead Cas got a chair and moved it quietly closer. He sat down on the other side of Dean. It wasn't a chilly night. It was comfortable enough to remain in their shared space a little longer. Sam's even breathing soon lulled Dean in. He fell asleep between the two most important people in his life. It was going to be okay, as long as they could stay together.

 

 

 

 

 

 

\-------

I don't like to drag out moments... but for all of you, who wanted a longer reunion scene:

 

Also the rest of the evening Sam is basically like:  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned for the Epilog and then this baby will be completed.
> 
> New writing app is actually helpful ^^ Maybe I'll get to finish my other long-paused story afterwards.  
> (If you haven't heard of it yet, try out ZenWriter. I love it)


	15. Parting gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilouge

They had fulfilled the oath from the Men of Letters and proven that the Endless exist. But the main problem remained. The Mark of Cain still affected Dean, and in a weakened form also Metatron. There was no way to break the curse for now, even though they were working on that.

Death of the Endless had succeeded in weakening the curse, she had given Dean a better chance to get it under control. But no matter how creative Sam got with his summons, she never came again and he wasn't desperate enough to try for another one of the Endless. They seemed to be powerful, some of them too volatile to consider. Which is why they filed it away as a last resort.

 

They were looking for Cas grace and possible solutions for the curse, but it was a difficult search and they needed some normalcy. It wasn't surprising anyone when they started hunting again. The line-up changed from time to time. Sometimes the blood-thirst was too strong and Dean had to stay behind for everyone's safety. At times they even cooperated with Crowley or brought in other hunters to cover their backs. The Winchesters were back in business and feared as always.

 

 

But back in the bunker, under the cover of the night, Dean struggled almost as badly as before.

There were tough nights after close encounters, when his self-hatred bubbled up. There were times, when his trusty hunting knife looked welcoming. He hated himself even more, because it still happened. With all the support of Cas and now even Sam, he still wasn't strong enough to put all of this behind him. They tried to help him, they distracted him, stayed close whenever they felt something was wrong. It was helping, it really was. Sometimes he just couldn't bear being so needy, so dependant. He was afraid of the fact, that he needed them so much.

There were also other times though. Some days Dean got up with all the energy of a wild animal. Full of life, full of good feelings, ready to dive head first into the toughest cases. On these days his mind was clear, it was sharp. His senses were heigthened, he rarely missed a hint. It almost felt as if he was bursting with great ideas.

 

 

During an especially difficult night, Dean woke up screaming, only to realise he was still asleep.

In his dream he sat alone in the bed, the room was dark, only the notification light on his phone blinking. He wanted to pull up the message, but instead a figure ascended from the phone. It was a somewhat tall woman with porcelain-skin and long dark hair. Her eyes captured his, a glowing red.

 

"Sweet child", the woman said in a velvety voice, "are you still afraid of the dark?"

Dean shook his head in disbelieve, he had only just noticed the wings.

"Ramiel?! How?"

"Dream allowed me to come here. I wanted to thank you. Because of you, I can now travel freely between the shadow realm and earth. I can guide lost souls to heaven, but also visit the dreams of the suffering again."

"And I guess, I'm suffering?"

"Indeed. Your mind forces you to rethink all your decisions and sometimes you struggle to calm down. As a way of thanking you, I have a gift for you. I prepared a silent space for you, whenever I'll feel your distress, I can send you this dream."

 

Dean got up in his dream. He took Ramiel's outstretched hand, following her out of the darkness into the light she had created for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna get personal here for a bit, so feel free to skip this.
> 
> I suffer from depression. I have resorted to self-harm in the past. I'm proud to say that I've been clean for two and a half years now.
> 
> Please, it is very important to me, that all of you understand that it was never my intention to romanticize self-harm or promote it. How Dean deals with it? That's me. I wrote this primarily to remind myself that it is okay to feel the urge resurface in stressful times. It does not mean, that I'll give in. It is important that I recognize it for what it is and deal with it using the strategies that work for me.
> 
> As someone who has experienced dark times, believe me when I say, I'm here for you.  
> If you go through tough times for any reason and you need someone to listen, I will.  
> No questions asked, no judgement here. Feel free to randomly rant to me, if that helps you.  
> Get it out there, let go of that burden. It's the internet, we'll probably never meet. Use this anonymity as a safety blanket.
> 
> For everyone who needs to hear it:  
> You are always enough. Try your best, no one can expect more than that. When you fail, try again.  
> If you can't do it for yourself, do it for me. Do it, because I believe in you. Do it for all the people you still have to meet.


End file.
